Mr. Larkin scrambled up one of the pillars when Marie-Fey hurled the doors to her palace open and blew into the hall.

Aya took flight with a shriek of fright, shooting into the air and vanishing out of the window.

Her servants raced out of the way, backing to the walls and staring at her.

Whatever was in Marie-Fey's eyes cleared a path like nothing else. She had no idea what her expression was but she didn't care.

She wasn't even aware of it.

She kept walking, fast and hard, skirts balled in her fists so she couldn't trip on them as she raced through the hall, up the staircase and onwards.

Further and further and further.

On into the palace, putting the shooting range far behind her.

Like she could outrun the echo of the whip crack that repeated again and again in her head.

Out-maneuverer the tail of the whip as it collided with her memories.

"Stop!" she shouted when she reached the second floor and kept walking.

The steps of her ladies stopped behind her and they didn't follow her as she kept going.

On and on, into the depths.

As far as she could.

Until she climbed the last steps and hurled open the door of the observation tower, climbing up from the floor and slamming the door closed again.

The air was burning.

The sun was impossibly bright.

She felt suffocated as she ran to every window and wrenched them open, pulling cords and releasing latches until air blew through the tower but that wasn't enough to break the hold that sound had on her.

It was even louder in the silence.

She could hear it.

That crack again and again.

That scream of that man.

His rage.

His cruelty.

Her fear and screams.

She could hear her screams in her mind, and she clamped her hands to her ears as if she could drown out her own memory.

She didn't realise she was screaming until she felt her throat begin to tear.

She was losing her control.

Not after all this time.

Not after she had successfully lied after all these years.

She wasn't losing her control on this after all this time!

She slammed her fist into one of the tables, swept it to the right and sent a glass figurine flying until it crashed to the floor and Marie-Fey stopped.

Just like that.

She pulled herself together again.

She found her control and straightened.

She swept her hair back of her shoulder, smoothed out the creases of her gown, then walked to the wall and rang for tea.

She then proceeded to take a seat at one of the desks and looked around.

She hadn't had a proper look at what was on offer in the tower since she'd been in with Zaydan.

She reached for a file and pulled it out, flipping it open.

It was a star chart.

Her gaze flicked to the telescope by one of the other desks then returned to the chart.

She flipped to another page, eyes scanning the art and science before setting the file on the floor, pulling the pages loose and lining them out in order to reveal a section of sky.

She looked up at the glass ceiling, wondering where in the world these stars were located.

She assumed it would be around the tower but there were many, many more of these files in the tower.

She'd have to come back at night and try to match things.

She found maps of the city and the surrounding desert in other files, spreading those out and tracing the routes laid out.

There were also blueprints of the palaces.

Even the main palace though she couldn't imagine what the women would need that for since they never entered the main palace.

The door opened for her tea and she pointed without looking up from where she was knelt on the floor examining one of the city maps.

"There's shattered glass there, clean it," she ordered.

"I'll have it seen it," Zaydan said and she looked up, eyes narrowed.

He was only half way into the room, pushing a tea tray across the floor before climbing in after it and easing the door closed.

"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.

"Bringing you tea."

"That is the job of servants."

"I commandeered the tray from one of your staff," he replied, sliding the tray forwards and sitting cross-legged on the floor on the opposite side of the map field.

"You did not, there are two cups on that tray," she said.

He grinned at her. "I commandeered it early."

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"I want to see that you're well."

"I'm fine."

"Liar."

She bristled at that and he set about preparing the tea.

That made her stare.

"What are you doing?"

"Do you not want tea?"

"You know how to make a cup of tea?"

He frowned at her. "I did not have someone at my beck and call while I studied in your home country, I can make tea."

Marie-Fey just stared at him.

"It's really not that shocking. I promise it won't taste awful."

"If I die, the blame lies with you."

"That is not funny."

"I didn't say I was joking."

"Well I clearly needn't have worried after your wellbeing," he said, unfolding his long legs and getting up, picking his way across the map-strewn floor to set her tea on the ground at her side.

"I'm not in need of your worry," Marie-Fey shot back at him.

"I'm allowed to worry for my own reasons."

"What reasons could you possibly have?"

"Empathy. It's part of being human. You must make a study of it."

She glared up at him and he had the nerve to roll his eyes at her, before sitting down beside her.

"I'm fond of you, and even if I weren't, your expression out of the range gave me pause."

"You have awful taste in friends if you're fond of me."

"Are you friends?" he asked, brightening.

"We are not."

He ignored that.

Instead he looked out over the maps, picking up a star map and letting his gaze drift across it.

"Are you alright?" he eventually asked, his voice soft as he rose to his feet and began shifting pages around.

"Of course," Marie-Fey said, sitting back with her tea and leaving him to it.

"Are you sure?"

"Well I was until your started butting your nose into things."

He didn't reply for a while, just continued rearranging the floor, putting the huge map of the city in order before overlaying the pages with the map of the stars.

"You looked ready to scream," he eventually said.

"I was angry. Zaafira over-stepped her boundaries and I had every intention of punching her in her ugly mouth."

Zaydan quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Problem?" she goaded with a sweet smile. "Dislike my commentary on your childhood sweetheart? Perhaps you could walk away."

"I don't have a problem with your commentary on my childhood sweetheart," he said and Marie-Fey coughed into her tea.

He shot her a smirk.

"Catch you off guard there?" he asked, annoyingly triumphant.

"I didn't expect the honesty," she replied.

"Why? I'm always honest with you... or as honest as I can be," he said, finally walking back to her side. He lightly folded himself to the floor again and leant back on his hands, tilting his head back to enjoy the sun on his face, eyes closed and black hair shining in the light. "We spent years together and are of similar ages. On top of that, just look at her. Is she not stunning?"

"She's stunning on the outside," Marie-Fey grumbled, tea to her lips as she glared out over the maps.

"I was bound to hold affection for her at some point. But she was bought for my brother. She is and always has been off-limits."

Marie-Fey glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then looked away again. "I'm sorry," she said.

He looked at her, startled.

"It must be very hard being in such close proximity to the lady you want and not be able to have her," she said.

"Who? Zaafira?"

That wiped away Marie-Fey's moment of empathy. "No. Brunhilda the Slow Witted," she replied and got to her feet, crossing the room to get more tea.

"I don't want Zaafira," he said.

She frowned at him over her shoulder.

"I don't. I haven't for years. It was a phase. Nothing more. She's still one of my closest friends but nothing but that." He shot her a bright grin. "Relieved?"

"Ecstatic," she replied in a deadpan voice and finished her tea.

He was quiet for a while behind her but she heard him take a breath and braced for whatever he planned to ask.

"What happened out there?"

"Oh no, tell me what Zaafira told you first," she said, turning and smiling brightly. "Let me hear her version."

"She said she challenged you to a competition and you refused."

Marie-Fey chuckled and sat down across the map from him. "Then you have your answer, no?"

"How did it reach the stage where your skirt was torn?" he asked.

Marie-Fey's smile turned acidic. "You're a clever man, figure it out."

"What was it about the situation that unravelled you?"

"Unravelled? Me?" Marie-Fey in mock-surprise. "Nothing unravels me."

"Fine."

"Would you not lose your edge a little if someone tore your clothing with a whip?"

"Of course. And I would be frightened," Zaydan said and Marie-Fey was again surprised by his honesty, "To have a weapon so close if frightful. But you looked more than that."

"How did I look?" Marie-Fey asked with a smile.

"Like you were one strike off losing your mind."

That wiped her smile off her face.

"Like the world was falling out from under you and you were losing control. You looked like you were terrified and you looked like you were asking for help. That is what drew my concern. You needed help."

"I did not need help," she hissed.

"No, you did not," he conceded. "But I still want to know what brought on such an expression."

"We are not discussing this," she seethed.

"Which implies there's something to discuss."

"Get out," she spat, pointing to the door. "If you think you can waltz in here and pry into my world, you are sorely mistaken. I won't discuss whatever your imagining. My issues are my own and they are not for prying ears. Especially that of a man."

Zaydan's brow quirked at that and she bit back on that slip of the tongue.

He was quiet for a moment, composing his next question and her fingers slowly tightened on her teacup.

"Alright," he finally said.

He nodded.

Returned his attention to the maps.

And that was it.

She looked at him in surprise.

He didn't look up. He didn't push or pry any further, he just pulled forward a couple more star maps to examine.

"If you're not going to continue prying, why are you staying?" she finally snapped, shoulders tense.

"I told you, I'm fond of you," he said.

"And I repeat, you have awful taste in friends."

"That's alright," he said, smiling at the pages he read, "It just means my friends are interesting."

"I refuse to be friends with you."

"Then be my companion for the next fifteen minutes."

"Why fifteen?"

"Because that's how long I can spare before I must return to the main palace."

"I assume that's where you were this morning."

He nodded. "I should have been there all day."

"So what had you arriving at the range?"

"Your lady. Gharam had word sent through to me and I excused myself."

Well that explained where Gharam had run to.

"You have a lot of loyalty in those two, don't you?" he said, glancing up.

Marie-Fey shrugged at her. "Perhaps," she said, "Who can truly know for sure?"

"You have reason to distrust them?"

"I don't trust anyone," Marie-Fey replied in an off-handed tone. "If you are not my father, one of my siblings or one of their partners, I do not trust you."

"Sounds... stressful," he said.

"How many people do you trust? And I mean, really trust?"

Zaydan opened his mouth to answer, then paused and thought about it.

"Not so easy, is it?" she said lightly.

"I trust you," he offered and that surprised a laugh out of her.

"Good lord, why?" she said, gaping, "I shot you!"

"I shot you back."

"And I don't trust you!"

He just smiled at her. "That's alright," he repeated, glancing up at the sun before returning his gaze to her. "Will you join me on the range tomorrow morning, as usual?"

She narrowed her eyes at that.

"It will just be archery. As it's always been. Just you and I and our game. I promise..." He smiled at her. "Trust me."